


Of Course

by the_haven_of_fiction



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 10:38:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11102829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_haven_of_fiction/pseuds/the_haven_of_fiction
Summary: OFC is having “one of those days” and meets AU Business Man Tom in less than ideal circumstances.





	Of Course

As I heard the sickening crunch of metal and my body lurched forward in the seat, I thought to myself how much better this cloudy gray day would have been if I had simply stayed in bed.  No, scratch that.  This week would have been better if I had just stayed in bed.  I was literally a couple of blocks away from my house.  And now this.  I pulled over to the shoulder without really thinking about it.

Was it illegal to leave the scene of an accident if you were the victim?  I glanced up into the mirror to see my black eye and my frizzy hair, then looked down at my almost threadbare  pajamas that were stained with the coffee that I had spilled on myself fifteen minutes earlier as I raced to take my niece Clara to school.  I was trying to decide if I should speed off so that no one would see me like this and I wouldn’t have to deal with meeting a stranger when a frantic tapping at my window broke my pondering. 

Of course the driver was drop dead gorgeous.  Of course.  I should have anticipated that.  Anything less wouldn’t have fit the entire nature of this day so far, even though it was my day off and I had only been awake for about 30 minutes.  I had forgotten to set my alarm, having told my sister that I could take Clara to school since she had an early client appointment.

Ugh, he was wearing an impeccably tailored suit and looked like he just stepped stepped off a runway.  I, in embarrassingly stark contrast, looked like a frazzled soccer mom who was secretly buzzing on NyQuil.

His blue eyes were filled with concern and I sighed, reaching to roll down the window.

“Oh my goodness-“

_DEAR GOD, THAT ACCENT AND THAT VOICE!_

Of course he was gorgeous and had a killer posh British accent.  Of course.

“I am so dreadfully sorry, I was just looking down to tune the radio.  Are you injured, darling?  Let me help you.  Here.”

He opened the door, actually reached in and UNBUCKLED MY SEAT BELT and offered me a slender pale hand.

Of course he was gorgeous, had a killer posh British accident and was disgustingly polite.  Of course.

When I stepped out of the car and he saw my black eye, the expression on his face was hilarious.

“But how did that…so quickly…”

I thought I laughed, but it came out as a sob.

“No, that’s from a few days ago, when I ran into a door.  And yes, that is the truth.”

I could barely speak through my tears, sounding like a three year old.  I was even more horrified when I flat out started blubbering.  Getting rear-ended was the last straw.  I’m not sure which of us made it happen, if I simply slumped into him or if he moved toward me first, but I found myself enveloped in his long arms.

Oh, this was nice.  Very nice.  He was so tall and warm and…tall.  His big hands were rubbing my back and he was muttering soothingly in my ear.  Jiminy Christmas, he smelled absolutely delicious, like soap and mint and love and kittens.

_LOVE AND KITTENS?_

_You must have a head injury._

“I’m sorry,” I managed to stutter, “this isn’t how I normally look.  Or act.  I normally look much better, like Miss America quality.  Except for the boobs.  They look the same on a good day as they do on a bad day.  But I normally don’t cry on a stranger like a pageant queen.”

_OH GOD, PLEASE STOP TALKING._

Then he laughed.

Of course he was gorgeous, had a killer posh British accident, was disgustingly polite, and had an adorable laugh.  Of course.

“Well, I would say that your boobs look wonderful, but I usually try to save that foolproof line until at least the third date.”

He reached into his pocket and took out a handkerchief.

Really?  A handkerchief?  

Of course he was gorgeous, had a killer posh British accident, was disgustingly polite, had an adorable laugh, and carried a handkerchief.  Of course.

He probably also had a gaggle of anthropomorphized furry woodland creatures who were shyly hiding in the front seat of his white SUV.

Maybe I hadn’t actually gotten out of bed.  Maybe I was just dreaming. 

His manner was putting me at ease and my tears were ceasing.

“Having a rough go of it today, darling?” he inquired, his tone brimming with what seemed like sincere consideration of my well-being.

One of his hands gently tilted up my chin and he patted my cheeks dry as if I was a distressed child.

This was one of the most horrible and yet most glorious things that had ever happened to me.  I could only nod my head and he smiled.  I figured my filter was completely gone after the boobs comment, so I dropped-kicked caution to the wind.

“Why can’t you appear like this,” I gestured up and down at him with one hand, “with your accent and your suit and your handkerchief whenever I’m having a bad day?  No one has wiped my face since I was six years old.  Is it usually patronizing or does it feel comforting just because of you?  Can I keep you on retainer or something?  ”

He giggled.

“Well, considering that I just gave your car a nice bang, I wouldn’t think that you would want to keep me around.”

“Oh, nonsense.  You could bang me anytime.”

Yes.  Yes, I should have stayed in bed.

Definitely.

All those years of reading books with the lines like “She wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole” – now I understood.  Keenly.  Excruciatingly keenly.

I’d never seen someone laugh and choke at the same time, but somehow seem graceful doing it.

I stood there and waited until he had recovered and could speak again.

His voice was rather wheezy.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or worse than I already have.  It’s just…you Americans and your delightfully odd sense of humor.”

“Huh,” I snorted.  “Have you SEEN British television?  You make ‘delightfully odd’ look like…look like…well, I can’t find a metaphor that fits here.  I must be in shock.”

The concerned look was back on his face and his gaze travelled up and down my body.

“Are you injured?  You didn’t answer me earlier.”

“No, I, don’t think so.  I guess because I was already stopped and you were barely moving, it wasn’t so bad. Usually, these –“

My mouth closed with a pop.

I was going to say something about being rear-ended, but that seemed entirely too dangerous in light of what I had blurted out earlier.

His face was painted with amusement now, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“You were saying?” he asked with wide innocent eyes.

“Nothing.”

He was grinning at me.

“Are you insured, cowboy?  Do you have a license to ride that bronco?” I pointed back towards his SUV.

Now he was the one who opened his mouth and closed it without saying something.

I raised an eyebrow at him and noticed that he was blushing.  I pointed down the block.

“I live right there, in the house with the blue shutters.  Would you like to come in and exchange secrets?”

His eyes narrowed a bit and I shivered.

It must have been the cold.

Then he answered me in a low velvety tone that made me shiver.  Again.  

“Of course.”

Oh, it wasn’t the cold.  


End file.
